A Dance to The Music of Time - Volume 8

War is loud. Bombs don’t explode quietly and guns don’t fire silently. Yet the most ominous sound in The Soldier’s Art, seems to be silence. The deafening noises of the war do not instill the fear that is to be expected of them; the situation always seems to turn out alright, despite the noise. When the volume of the war is soft or silent, however, the war seems to wreak its worst havoc, as silence surrounds unhappiness and misfortune within the book.

When the German Luftwaffe attacks, the air raid sirens begin to blare. “The melancholy dirge of sirens, like ritual wailings at barbarous obsequies” (5) announce the arrival of the enemy planes, and once the attack has ceased the “All Clear” sirens begin to sound. In addition to the sirens, the brens on the ground generate a “good deal of noise” (7). Nick describes the “noise of the cannonade” (11), as well as the “concentrated burst[s] of ack-ack fire” (13) and the “clatter of the guns” (14) that cause Bithel so much difficulty in being heard. While the picture painted of these attacks is loud and grim, everyone seems to weather them, as there is no mention of death in the surrounding pages.

Nick also uses the cliché of “the rattle of musketry from distant hills” (15) to stir Bithel into further conversation about his boyhood aspirations. Once again, sound, while ominous and foreboding, turns out to be an ally, recalling for Bithel happy memories of reading childhood stories.

During the dinner with Moreland, Mrs. Maclintick, Stevens, and Priscilla, the characters are unable to hear the air raid sirens announcing the blitz. When Priscilla thinks she hears the raid, she “become[s] quite silent” (137). All the characters begin to listen, but are unable to identify the noise of the sirens, and therefore simply ignore the warning. As it turns out, however, the raid the characters did not hear was the one that killed Chips. Later in the same dinner, Priscilla and Stevens begin to quarrel slightly when she claims to be sick. At first, Stevens tries to blame the headache on the restaurant being “noisy” (139). When things get bad, however, is when it gets quiet. “There was silence for a moment. `I think I’ll make for home.’ [said Priscilla]” (140). Priscilla had only complained about a headache up till that moment, yet suddenly in the silence she has decided to go home. Her decision is a fatal one however, as she arrives at the house only to be killed in another raid.

Later in the book, silence is once again present in an unfortunate situation. When Keef reports to Colonel Hogbourne-Johnson that Diplock has deserted, Colonel Hogbourne-Johnson can “find no words at first to register he fully comprehended what Keef had to report” (213). As Keef waits for a response, “the awfulness of the silence that follows” (213) wears on his nerves, until he breaks the silence to relieve the tension. Once again silence accompanies unfortunate situations, in this case even being directly described as “awful.”

The noises of war, the booming guns and wailing sirens, seem to accompany safety and security. While in peace-time such noises would be frightening, in war the situation is completely different. It is the lack of war noises, when only silence or the normal hum of traffic is present, that seems to bring misfortune. Powell has reversed the roles of sound as we normally think of them; peace is not peaceful, and the real damage is done in silence.

Just like the majority of people, Charles Stringham does not respond well to public humiliation. He, like the rest of us, only acts and feels worse when embarrassed by someone in front of others. Tuffy Weedon represents this humiliation and criticism. For all of the time that he spends under her `care,’ he only makes progress in the wrong direction; retreating farther and farther into his drinking. Receiving only punishments for his errors does not teach him a lesson; rather, it reinforces his ‘bad behavior.”

Modern psychology shows us that operant conditioning, a theory developed by B. F. Skinner, is a method that heads consistent results of shaping behavior.* This theory relies on a series of reinforcements and punishments that are emitted upon a certain behavior. These reinforcements and punishments are deemed either “positive” or “negative,” depending on whether they add or remove something from the subject. Stringham is subjected only to negative punishment with Tuffy, in that she adds something unpleasant to the situation with the intention of decreasing the probability of the behavior from reoccurring. (This is true unless the reading of Browning can be seen as positive reinforcement, a possibility Stringham seems to disavow.) This method can be affective, so long as the punishment is paired with reinforcements. However, Tuffy does not chose to reinforce Stringham, but rather she only punishes him, which has shown to be an ineffective method for changing behavior. Punishment alone does not work because the subject, Stringham, has no reason to believe that changing his behavior will get him anywhere; he has never been shown what acting properly will do for him. This is why Stringham never prospered under her; her approach was all wrong.

Stringham did succeed, however. Once he joined the army, he kicked his alcohol addiction. He was given a `reinforcement schedule,’* psychologically, Stringham understood that in the army, no matter how low his ranking, he would be rewarded (reinforced) for his positive behavior and punished for his negative behavior consistently. It is this intermittent, but consistent, reinforcement and punishment schedule that ultimately straightens him out. At the end of The Soldier’s Art, we see Stringham as a man opposite of the one we have known in earlier books. When we previously saw him, he was a babbling drunk, embarrassing himself at the party for Moreland. But now, he has a sense of purpose, pride, and self now, all things he has found since giving up alcohol and joining the army. The vast improvement between the Stringham before and Stringham after only reiterates what a difference the smallest reinforcement can make. Too bad Tuffy never caught on.

–0–

*Psychological theories paraphrased from: Modern Synopsis of Psychiatry/III . Harold I. Kaplan, Benjamin J. Sadock. 63-64

Widmerpool’s sudden appearance at the end of The Valley of Bones surprises us, especially when we realize his new, powerful position. In contrast, in The Soldier’s Art, Widmerpool is present throughout the entire book and we see him exert this power and follow through with his merciless treatment on everyone under his control, especially Bithel, Stringham, and Jenkins. This is the first time Powell has given Widmerpool the power to do evil, and he makes sure Widmerpool doesn’t miss the opportunity to do so.

On page 9 Jenkins remarks, “Widmerpool, as DAAG conveniently placed for furthering this measure, was anxious to oust Bithel at the first opportunity”. Widmerpool was jealous of Bithel’s position; however he “swallows Bithel’s intermittently propagated myth about being the officer of the same name and regiment who had won a VC in the ’14-’18 war” (9). The remark Jenkins makes holds true in that the first time that Widmerpool notices Bithel drunk, he says, “I’ll see this is the last time the army’s troubled with [him]. It will only be a matter of expediting matters already in hand” (185). Widmerpool takes advantage of his position and without giving Bithel a second thought, gets him sent on immediate leave. Bithel has been careful up until this point – when his check bounced he kept it quiet so that the DAAG wouldn’t know. “Otherwise Widmerpool might find the opportunity for which he was waiting” (12). Well, now he has found it.

When Jenkins informs Widmerpool of Stringham’s job as a mess waiter, Widmerpool is clearly uncomfortable because of Stringham’s sudden presence. He is not surprised that Stringham holds such a menial job because as he says “Stringham was a badly behaved boy at school … and he took to drink early in life.” Widmerpool plainly feels that Stringham does not deserve a better job because of his notorious past. However, later Widmerpool does get Stringham a new job – “Do you know, Nick, he went out of his way to get me moved from F Mess to Mobile Laundry – just as an act of pure kindness. Who’d have thought that of Widmerpool?” (182) This “act of pure kindness” we soon learn, is Widmerpool’s attempt to get rid of Stringham, which he does. The Mobile Laundry gets sent to the Far East and Widmerpool is successful so much so that we never see Stringham again.

Jenkins says on page 21-22 “I found that when I worked under him there were still comparatively unfamiliar sides to Widmerpool … for example, how difficult he was to work with … perpetual fear, almost obsession, that tasks completed by himself might be attributed to the work of someone else.” This reiterates Widmerpool’s concern for nobody but himself. He is interested in others only if they will help in his progress, otherwise he does not care about anyone at all. Jenkins great dislike for him is proved on page 23 – “In the first place, I desired to separate myself from Widmerpool”. However, Jenkins continues to work with him in the hope of a promotion – which Widmerpool promises him. “I’ll see you get fixed up in a suitable job when I move up the ladder myself … Don’t worry, my boy, I’ll keep you in the picture”. However, when Widmerpool does “move up the ladder,” he moves up it by himself, leaving Jenkins to the ITC. This only further exemplifies his selfishness and disregard for Jenkins.

Widmerpool does not get away unscathed. He gets into hot water with Colonel Hogbourne Johnson in a great comic scene where the Colonel accuses him of making “a disgraceful mess” (56) of the traffic circuits. In another scene he accuses Widmerpool of having “brought a series of accusations against an old and tried soldier” (210). In the end however Widmerpool is leaving the division anyways, so these accusations hardly make a difference to him. He is ready to move along and wreak havoc elsewhere.

Is Widmerpool an evil person, deliberately trying to ruin people’s careers? Pehaps “evil” is too strong a word. He is just too self-absorbed to notice the damage he is doing. He does not intentionally go out of his way to do evil, rather, he only eliminates obstacles in the way of his advancement and is blind to the consequences of his actions. His progress is of utmost importance to him, and there is no stopping him.

As Nick goes through his journey of life, he meets a countless amount of people, as we all do. Some of these people are memorable while others are easily forgotten. One of the first characters that we meet in The Dance is Charles Stringham, while Nick is back at school in A Question of Upbringing. Stringham is a very lovable character. He has a witty sense of humor shown with the “Braddock alias Thorne” prank that he pulls on Le Bas. Then Stringham disappears from Nick’s life when he leaves the University. He develops a problem with alcoholism that Nick hears about through rumors. He sees Stringham struggle with alcohol first hand at an Old Boy’s Dinner and at a party thrown for Hugh Moreland. With the help of Tuffy Weedon Stringham is able to overcome his addiction. Nick encounters Stringham again in The Soldier’s Art, when he discovers that Stringham has become a whole new person.

Stringham is assigned to be a waiter in the army. Due to the fact that he was born into a rich family he is used to being served and not to serving. He is also an educated person so it would make sense for him to be given a more substantial post. Nick asks Stringham if he wants a higher position, but Stringham replies that he is happy where he is. Nick talks to Widmerpool and gets Stringham transferred to the mobile laundry. Stringham has become more content with life. For the first time ever in his life he has responsibilities. His life has a purpose. He has a sense of belonging to a group.

A feeling of belonging to a group is a very important feeling in a human’s life. Stringham has never had that feeling. He was an outcast for years when he was an alcoholic. His family tossed him out and put him under the control of Tuffy Weedon. When he is in the military he finally feels as if he belongs. When Nick asks Stringham if he wants to transfer out of the mobile laundry to avoid being sent to the Far East, he says, “I’m wedded to the Laundry by this time. I’ve really begun to know the meaning of esprit de corps, something lamentably lacking in me up to now” (219, TSA). Another phrase that Stringham applies to himself is “Quis Separabat” (223, TSA). IT means, who will separate? Stringham knows that he will stick with his unit to the end. He has a sense of responsibility and duty towards his unit.

Nick says that Stringham can be very depressed at times when they are back at school. Now that Stringham is in the military he has become a very cheerful person. He enjoys his life, and trying new things. Having a structured military life has helped Stringham handle depression exceptionally well. By having responsibilities, duties, and a feeling of belonging Stringham is able to enjoy life and have respect for himself.

“You will therefore be aware that– like my former unregenerate self– he is at times what our former mentor, Mr Le Bas, used to call a devotee of Bacchus,” says Stringham as he asks for Jenkins’s help getting Bithel back to his room, without making evident Bithel’s overdoing of the “Dionysian rites.” It is interesting to see Stringham as the sober character, helping another drunkard out, as he himself has always been the one being saved. This indicates the improvement Stringhan has made of his life. This scene is very similar to the scene in the Acceptance World, where Stringham is being helped. Powell must have either been thinking ahead about creating the scene with Bithel when he wrote the scene about Stringham, or he was definitely thinking about the scene with Stringham, when he wrote about Bithel.

In The Acceptance World, we see Stringham being taken home by Widmerpool and Jenkins. On Nick’s way out of the Old Boy dinner at Le Bas’s house, he realizes that Stringham is extremely drunk. He sits down with Stringham and tries to get him to leave but instead, Stringham chooses to reminisce of past experiences– women and Le Bas. Finally, they decide to walk back to Stringham’s flat…to have another drink. On the way home, Stringham begins to feel “extraordinarily odd,” so he settles down in the middle of Piccadilly. Much to Jenkins’s despair, along comes Widmerpool, who is very curious to know why Stringham is in the position he is in. “Stringham has had about a gallon to drink,” says Nick. Widmerpool takes one of Stringham’s arms, Jenkins takes the other, and they begin to drag Stringham home. Once they arrive at West Halkin Street, Widmerpool and Jenkins attempt to put Stringham to bed. Stringham sits up, completely oblivious to what has happened, and begins to fight with Widmerpool over whether he should be allowed to get out of his bed, in the state he is on, or not. A “positively cosmic change in life’s system” is apparent; Widmerpool is now in the position of authority, whereas Stringham has always been a superior to Widmerpool.

Ten years later, in A Soldier’s Art, Stringham has turned his life around and he is seen taking care of a drunkard: Bithel. This scene is very similar to the previous one, however, the roles have been drastically switched around. Although Widmerpool and Jenkins are static in their role, Stringham has gone from the troubled one to a helpful one. This time, he is the one who summons Nick to help him get Bithel home. Unfortunately, they run into Widmerpool again, who is now a known figure of authority. Widmerpool is very angered by the situation and he tells Jenkins to take care of the situation immediately. Stringham and Jenkins take Bithel home, but that is the end of Bithel’s career in the army.

There are many similarities between the two scenes. In both cases, Widmerpool happens to come across both drunk men, when he is definitely unwanted there, especially in the second one. He does show his position of authority in both cases; however, it is more surprising that he does so with Stringham. The ways Stringham and Bithel react to Widmerpool’s power trips are different. Stringham puts up a fight when Widmerpool tries to tell him what to do but Bithel acts much more passively. Widmerpool gives him the alternative of a court martial or a document reporting that he is unfit to be an officer. Bithel accepts the latter, and is sent on immediate leave, departing in tears.

Powell mirrored one event from another. Jenkins plays a similar role in both instances. Widmerpool takes authority in both instances, regardless of whether it is his place or not. Stringham progresses from being the helpless drunk to being a helper of a drunk, and this is very significant because it shows how he has cleaned up his life. Although the two scenes are about ten years apart, Powell definitely created them to reflect one another.

The theme of chance encounters and coincidence has been prevalent throughout the first eight books of the series. In The Soldier’s Art, the theme is continued, but it takes on a more serious tone, as the stakes become higher in war. Chance encounters and coincidence have taken on a new form in which they are no longer just an opportunity for friends to catch up or reminisce about old times. Those times have passed and coincidence and chance encounters now result in either death or a chance for two friends to grieve together over mutual losses. The happiness that once surrounded these twists of fate has been translated into misfortune. The joy of the youthful times of innocence has switched to a harsh reality of adulthood during wartime.

During a blitz in London examples of both chance and coincidence in wartime are demonstrated. The Jeavons’s house is hit by a bomb and Jenkins just happens to be in the neighborhood at a nearby restaurant. Also in the same night, Chips Lovell is killed at the Madrid, where he went to go find Priscilla. Coincidentally and tragically, Priscilla is killed at the Jeavons, after just missing Chips at the Madrid. War is unpredictable and everyone is vulnerable, regardless of class. The bomb that strikes the Jeavons’s residence, killing Molly, Priscilla, and a Polish officer, injuring Ted and others, and leaves all of the other surrounding buildings untouched. Jenkins was in a restaurant nearby, with Moreland and Audry Maclintick, but they were unable hear the air raid warning clearly from inside. The blitzes are going on continually and Max Pilgrim fills Jenkins in about the air raid that occurred earlier that night. He informs Jenkins that the Madrid was destroyed, commenting that it was, “Frenzied. Like Dante’s Inferno. All in the blackout too.”(156) He then goes on to point out how lucky he is in saying, “I suppose a few got away with it–like myself.”(156) Now the focus is surviving death in contrast to earlier days where the focus might be on successfully surviving and engaging in a social evening. These statements speak to the destructiveness of the raids and the pure chance involved in being able to avoid a bomb or being hit by one. Jenkins cannot escape the consequences of war even when he is home on leave, visiting family and friends in London.

The pictures hanging in the drawing of Jeavons house were moved when the war began, but the pictures cannot escape the dust from the blast. These pictures are a symbol of how Jenkins is unable to escape the war even when he tries to get away from it by coming home on leave. War penetrates everything and everyone, like a dark cloud of dust that is inescapable as it spreads through the bombed house. Jenkins is actually closer to the realities of and the fate that surrounds the blitzes when his is on leave in London. He is no longer worrying about which party he is going to or who he is sitting next to at the table. Now he focuses on keeping his life and the lives of his wife and friends. No one is left out of war, as death levels the field. War gives no invitations like the upper class social dances that Jenkins attended in his past. War casts a dark blanket over all interactions in contrast to the light nature of previous encounters.

When Jenkins enters the Jeavons’s house he meets Eleanor, who is trying to restore order to the madness that now surrounds her. Eleanor has put up a barrier and she will not let Jenkins penetrate her shell and get into her thoughts. She then realizes that her barrier is just making the pain worse. The two friends stop and take a moment to step back and give support to one another as they grieve their friends’ deaths. The war has stripped the joy away from the meeting of friends who have not seen each other in a while. The chance encounter that would once occur at a party and bring happiness now occurs in a bombed out house and brings the deepest sorrow. As Jenkins leaves the house, he views the frenzied scene around him, with fire engines racing away from the scene of the attack. The notice on the door that indicates that the house was struck by a bomb draws up a memory for Jenkins. He thinks back to a time not so long ago when he was traveling in Chip’s fancy car and they stopped in on the Jeavons, so Chips could see Priscilla. Jenkins realizes how much the war has changed his life and the life of those around him. The youthful days of innocence and parties are not so long passed, but with the onset of war and blitzes, they seem many decades ago.

I shut my eyes and turn’d them on my heart.
As a man calls for wine before he fights,
I ask’d one draught of earlier, happier sights,
Ere fitly I could hope to play my part.
Think first, fight afterwards-the soldier’s art:
One taste of the old time sets all to rights.

— Robert Browning

A Soldier’s Art brings us back in touch with one of our good friends Charles Stringham. Nick is very surprised to find Stringham serving him potatoes one night in F Mess and is happy to have reconnected with him. Shortly after their first encounter we see that Charles is a wholly different individual, one that does not want to remember days past. During Nick’s last conversation with Stringham he reads a single stanza from Robert Browning’s Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came. Charles declares that the poem “has about twenty different meanings.” (221 SA) Yet, it appears he is unaware that this stanza is foreshadowing the death that awaits him as soon as he and the Mobile Laundry Unit are shipped off to the East.

In the first couplet, we see Stringham struggle to redefine himself in his sobriety and his new role in the army. Browning’s stanza begins, “I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart. As a man calls for wine before he fights.” (221 SA) Stringham is attempting to shift through his tumultuous life to find meaning, and what he has found is the ritualism and structure of the army to give himself purpose. Stringham is reflecting as if these are his last moments of introspection before he heads into battle knowing he is going to die. The reference to wine alludes to Stringham’s fight with alcoholism “before” joining the army.

The alcoholism is again referred to in the third line of the stanza, “I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights” (221 SA) reminding the reader of times that Stringham was dependent upon drink. Now that he has regained his sobriety he realizes, “even I myself grasped I’d become the most desperate of bores by being permanently sober” (80 SA). The one draught is referring to the drinks that he would consume at earlier parties, which were happier sights for everyone. Stringham enjoying his drunken stupor and all those he entertained reaping the benefits of his intoxication.In the forth line of the stanza we move away from events past and towards current events. Stringham reads, “ere fitly I could hope to play my part” (221 SA). When the war came along Stringham “began to develop all sorts of martial ambitions … The long and the short of it was, I entered the army.” (80 SA) War being brought upon England led Charles to sign up for the army so that he can play his part, or at least feel as though he is doing so. Early in this encounter, Nick asks if he and Widmerpool can “find something better” for Stringham. At this question Charles is almost offended. Nick responds awkwardly “`I don’t know. I thought there might be something.'” (76 SA) Stringham believes he has the talent and that “It’s just a question of developing latent ability. I never dreamed I possessed such potentialities. It’s been marvelous to release them.” (77 SA) This is Stringham’s idea of playing his part in the war. He has no desire to relinquish his duties as F Mess waiter, regardless of the job. Furthermore, when it comes time for the Mobile Laundry Unit to be shipped to the Far East, Stringham states there is “Not a doubt” (220 SA) that he would want to get out of this relocation as Nick suggests, a change that will ultimately lead to his death.

This book’s title is taken from the fifth line, “think first, fight afterwards – the soldier’s art” (221 SA). This is the reason why Stringham joined the army in the first place. The glorified ideal of fighting and dying for your country: “fell in action. I’m always struck by that phrase” (78 SA) Stringham says when talking about Chips Lovell dying in battle. Charles has already done his thinking in life and now he can finally do his fighting in the army.

The last line in the stanza “One taste of the old time sets all to rights.”(221 SA) is the defining piece that leads one to conclude this poem is foreshadowing Stringham’s now imminent death. Old memories are revisited one last time during Nick and Stringham’s last meeting. The two have caught up with one another bringing closure to their relationship, tying the strings and things between them are reconciled. It is ok for Stringham to go and fulfill his destiny as indicated in the poem and die valiantly for his country in the name of the soldier’s art.

The reappearance of Stringham in A Soldier’s Art is not only startling but also worrisome. At first it is refreshing to see an old face, but it is obvious that this is not the same Stringham we know and love. It is easiest to say that something is just `off’ about him, that he seems out of it, and generally disconnected from the world. After Stringham’s years of alcoholism, his sober self is a mere empty shell of his once vibrant character. A syndrome that most commonly occurs in long-term alcoholics is called Wernicke Encephalopathy. The symptoms and causes of this disorder make sense of Stringham’s newly developed characteristics and help give a medical explanation for the loss of his vibrant character.

 Wernicke Encephalopathy is caused by thiamine (vitamin B-1) deficiency (Emedicine 1). It was described by Dr. Carl Wernicke as a triad of “acute mental confusion, ataxia, and ophthalmoplegia” (Emedicine 1). Ataxia is loss of muscle coordination and ophthalmoplegia is paralysis of the motor nerves of the eye, resulting in a loss of eye movement. Long-term alcohol abuse is the most common cause of Wernicke Encephalopathy. Due to prolonged alcohol consumption the intestines are only able to absorb thiamine at half the rate of normal functioning (Emedicine 3). Thiamine is responsible for the metabolism of carbohydrates and is a key component in three crucial enzyme systems (Emedicine 2). Wernicke Encephalopathy can develop into what is known as Wernicke-Korsakoff syndrome which adds memory loss to the previously described symptoms. The disease is frequently unrecognized and it is likely that it has a higher incidence than commonly assumed (Emedicine 2).

The characteristics of acute confusion, loss of general motor control, and eye movement are illustrated by Stringham in his reappearance in A Soldier’s Art (Emedicine 3). Though details such as these are difficult to identify specifically within the text, they are alluded to by Nick’s conversations with him. Stringham seems to talk in rambling paragraphs, not truly upholding a conversation with Nick. It is as if Stringham is lost in thought. Nick comments that, “he seemed far away, to have forgotten completely that we were talking. I wondered how sane he remained” (SA 81). In general Stringham gives one the feeling of not being quite right mentally now that he is sober again. He talks about how the army suits him because he is not under the strain of social pressure. Stringham says that trying to keep up socially “had begun to get me down for some reason. Make me tired” (SA 80). He is unable to keep up with the same energy level and emotional attachment to the outside world because he is still trying to sort out his own life.

To fulfill the second rung of the triad, Nick describes Stringham’s eyes as “bloodshot … with dark, bluish rims, were alive, but gave at the same time an impression of poor health” (SA 68). His ill health is obvious from the time Nick sees him, the details of his sunken yet strained eyes give rise to the possibility of developing nerve damage in his eyes. The lack of eye movement itself is not detailed in the book but is illustrated in the movie representation. Stringham always seems to be looking directly forward and avoiding eye contact with Nick. The criteria of lack of motor control is explained by Stringham not being “medically graded A.1.” (SA 76). Stringham says that this explains, “why in the past one’s so often woken up feeling like the wrath of God” (76). This is referring to his reoccurring hangovers after a night of drinking, the very root of his current physical and mental problems.

There seem to be underlying psychological issues at work beyond the medical explanation of a thiamine deficiency that prevents Stringham from moving past his physical symptoms. Consider his opening description in A Question of Upbringing with “fits of melancholy.” The degrading recovery under Tuffy’s hold and being shunned from his own family has had a further detrimental psychological impact on Stringham. Now that he is back in the real world with an unstable mental condition, any chance of recovery is undermined by his development of Wernicke Encephalopathy. Stringham has paid the full price for his alcoholism, and it is a sad place to find our dear friend who always seemed to be living life to the fullest.

Source:

Salen M.D., Philip N. Wernicke Encephalopathy. Emedicine, from WebMD, Oct. 24, 2006

< http://www.emedicine.com/EMERG/topic642.htm>.

At the conclusion of The Valley of Bones, Nick and the reader are surprised by the sudden appearance of Widmerpool. Throughout The Dance, Nick runs into people unexpectedly and these types of coincidences characterize the entire series. During The Soldier’s Art chance is also prevalent; however it is displayed quite differently and more solemnly. Rather than simply meeting up with an old friend and reminiscing about the past, the war and chance bring sorrow and death. What used to be a happy encounter between two people turns into tragedy in the eighth installment. During wartime, the youthful escapades that Nick once enjoyed escape him, while the harsh realities of adulthood come to life through coincidence and chance.

Stringham, a childhood friend of Nick’s, reenters The Dance to Nick’s own astonishment. Nick sits down to dinner in F mess, expecting to be served by Robbins, the regular waiter. As Nick scoops potatoes from the serving platter, however, he does not recognize his attendant at first, commenting that he, “glanced at the waiter’s face for a second, then looked away, feeling…faintly, indeterminately uneasy” (SA, 68). As the attendant moved around the table, Nick was able to glance at him, finally recognizing that it was his long-time friend, Stringham. Was it not coincidence that after Widmerpool assigned Nick to F mess, Stringham too was assigned there? Even more so, Stringham was merely the replacement to Robbins, who had gone to the hospital, “with rupture” (TSA, 70). Based on previous reunions with Stringham, the reader is led to expect something bad, and that is certainly what the reader gets. This time, however, is completely different. Speaking in a, “la-di-da,” (SA, 70) voice, Stringham is a changed man: free of alcohol, women, but also emotion. Tuffy’s restrictive watch stripped him of these. Reluctant to dine and reminisce about the past with Nick, Stringham leaves. After the encounter between the two, Nick comments that, “this reunion with an old friend had been the reverse of enjoyable, indeed upsetting, painful to a degree” (SA, 83). By coincidence the two meet in F mess of the Division, and by the end of their meeting Nick comes away, filled with sorrow.

On his leave in London, Nick finds himself closer to the war and death then ever before. With all of the blitzes and blackouts, the threat of the German power is constantly present. The blitzes in fact cause another instance of chance. After Jenkins talks with Chips and later Priscilla in a nearby restaurant, a bomb hits the Jeavons’ house, killing Priscilla, Molly, and a Polish officer, injuring Ted and others. The bomb leaves all other surrounding buildings untouched. Coincidently and tragically, Chips is killed later that night by a separate blitz. He is killed in the Madrid, as he attempted to look for Pricilla at Bijou Ardglass’ fortieth birthday party. By mere chance and misfortune, the two lovers are killed and would never be able to mend things together. Max Pilgrim enlightens Nick as to what happened at the Madrid, saying it was, “Frenzied. Like Dante’s Inferno … suppose a few got away with it — like myself” (SA, 156). Max is extremely lucky to have escaped the bombing barely scathed. It is he, though, that symbolizes the difference in coincidence during wartime. In earlier days, the focus was to survive and make headway in the social scene, in which one would run into different people on accident and in which Max Pilgrim was leading the pack: exemplified in his behavior at Milly Andriadis’. During wartime, however, the focus is on surviving the blitzes and living on to the next day. The only way to accomplish this is to avoid the bombs through luck and chance.

At the height of German advancement, all of the characters in the novel are affected by the war, no matter what class, where they are, or whether or not they are enlisted in the army. The chance reunion with Stringham is less than enjoyable and the coincidental bombings that kill Priscilla and Chips Lovell in the same night are extremely unfortunate. In The Soldier’s Art, the happier coincidental reunions of the past are no more, but rather now there are new ones that are filled with sorrow and death.

In the sixth novel of A Dance to the Music of Time (The Kindly Ones), Betty Templer emotionally breaks down while they are photographing the seven deadly sins. Similarly, in the eighth novel, The Soldier’s Art, there is a scene in which Priscilla suddenly breaks down and leaves. One may glance over these occurrences quickly and categorize each as a small disturbance caused by Peter Templer and Odo Stevens, respectively. However, along with the similarities, there are a few key differences in the cause these and the in the reactions of both men.

A similar characteristic of both of these breakdowns are the initial thoughts of Odo Stevens and Peter Templer. In The Soldier’s Art, Stevens is unaware of what has actually upset Priscilla. At first, he thinks she is suddenly worried about the possibility of the blitz. She assures him that the conversation is simply boring her and Stevens then responds by agreeing to change the subject. He “spoke indulgently, but without grasping that something had gone badly wrong. (139)” “She was nearly in tears. Stevens plainly had no idea what had gone wrong. (140)” Similarly, in The Kindly Ones, Templer does not understand what is wrong with Betty. “At the height of the act, amid much laughter from the audience, I suddenly heard next to me a muffled howl. It was the noise a dog makes when accidentally trodden on. I turned to see what had happened. The sound came from Betty Templer. Tears were coursing down her cheeks. (132)” After she bursts into tears and leaves the room, he states, “oh dear, I’m afraid Betty is not feeling well again. Perhaps she should not have sat up so late.(133)” Both men prove to be clueless to the actual reason of their woman’s emotional collapse.

These situations are both provoked by actions of certain men, but to different degrees. In The Soldier’s Art, it can be inferred that Priscilla overreacts. “She may reasonably have felt that no competition should be required of her to keep him to herself. There was, of course, no question of Stevens showing any real interest in Mrs. Maclintick, but in circumstances prevailing, Priscilla probably regarded all his attention as belonging to herself alone.(136)” She seems to become jealous of Stevens taking his attention off of her. Betty’s reaction, although also an overreaction, could be said to have a more reasonable excuse. When Nick asks what is wrong with Betty, Widmerpool responds, “I have been told that Peter neglects her. (139)” It is obviously ridiculous for Betty to become upset with the single scene in which Templer is being photographed with other women, but her breakdown may be the result of a series of situations in which Peter somewhat neglects her.

The actual reaction of Templer and Stevens, however, differs in each situation. In The Soldier’s Art, Odo “seems anxious to do anything he can to please her. (139)” Although unsure of what exactly is going through Priscilla’s mind, he offers numerous times to bring her home or to get her a taxi. Even though she refuses and leaves abruptly, he still “sets off across the room to follow her. (142)” Stevens’ calm reaction may be attributed to the fact that “he was sufficiently experienced with women in general to have certain settled principles in dealing with situations of this kind. (140)” Whatever the reason may be, his reaction varies greatly from Templer’s response to Betty’s emotional discomposure. Peter Templer, who seems to be accustomed to this type of behavior from Betty, does nothing to prevent her from leaving the room. After she disappears, Widmerpool arrives, and he even stays and chats for a while until finally saying, “I think I’d better go up too … see how Betty is getting on.” Comforting her does not seem to be his main priority, in contrast to Stevens.

Overall, these emotional breakdowns reveal insecurities in the two women. It is clearly shown that Priscilla is troubled if she does not have Stevens all to herself. During the visit, Odo converses with Mrs. Maclintick, which seems to provoke part of her breakdown. “This behavior (between Odo and Mrs. Maclintick), however light-hearted, was perhaps displeasing to Priscilla, no doubt unwilling to admit to herself that, for Stevens, one woman was, at least up to a point, as good as another. (136)” Although this presents no possibility of becoming serious romantic interest at all, “Priscilla probably regarded all his attention as belonging to herself alone. (137)” Similarly, Betty Templer starts crying when she sees Peter being photographed as lust with all the girls he is not married to. “Up to that moment she had been sitting silent on one of the dining-room chairs, watching the show, apparently fairly happy now that her own turn was passed. I thought she was even finding these antics a little amusing. Now as I looked at her, she jumped up and rushed from the room.” (132) Throughout these scenes, Betty and Priscilla show similar insecurities, but the reactions of those around them make each situation unique.

While on leave during Anthony Powell’s A Soldier’s Art, Nick applies to work as a liaison officer between the British army and the Free French. In an office nearby, an acquaintance of Nick’s, David Pennistone, works with the “Polish Forces in Great Britain” (104). These two organizations, the Free French and the Polish Forces in Great Britain, are two examples of governments-in-exile. Over the course of World War Two, 12 countries had a government-in-exile. These governments-in-exile were established after their respective countries were invaded and conquered by the Axis powers. These governments-in-exile supported the Allies politically, and often as well in combat. The major supporters of Allied operations were the Free French and the Commonwealth of the Philippines.

The Free French government was headed by Charles de Gaulle, and was the major resistance group in France during World War Two . Although they were most famous for their actions in France, they were most active overseas. They most often worked in concert with British forces, providing additional units to large British organization like corps and armies. Ironically, many of the members of the Free French were initially Vichy French. During Operation Torch in northern Africa, many of the Vichy defenders surrendered and joined the Free French side . The Free French also fought during Operation Overlord; and once the Allies were on the outskirts of Paris, the 2nd Armored Division, a Free French division, was the first Allied force to enter Paris . After that, the Free French Army swelled because of its triumphant return to France. This, in turn, was a part of the reason why, France got to play a major role in the post-war proceedings when the war ended, even getting a piece of Berlin . The Free French government in exile was extremely helpful to its British and American allies by providing additional troops to help win the war.

The Commonwealth of the Philippines was organized by the United States, and granted the Philippine Islands commonwealth status in the organization of United States territory. After the Philippines were invaded and captured by the Japanese in the early stages of the war, the remaining members of the Philippine Army, as well as new groups like the Hukbalahap, or People’s Army Against the Japanese fought guerrilla style actions against those Japanese troops on the islands . Also important is that although they were eventually defeated by the Japanese invation, the US and Filipino forces were able to last for much longer than was expected, this, in turn, delayed Japanese plans, which made their later defeats at Guadalcanal and in New Guinea possible . Once American forces reinvaded the islands, they were greeted as liberators, and were aided by the many Filipino guerrillas . The Philippine’s government-in-exile helped the US and the rest of the Allies by providing a powerful distraction and by fighting a delaying action, which upset the carefully laid plans of the Japanese Empire.

Both of these governments-in-exile’s military forces were supremely useful to the Allied war effort. Much of this was a result of the leaders of these two groups. Charles de Gaulle, the leader of the Free French, was a very charismatic and persuasive public speaker, and, as a result, was able to excite the imagination of many, causing them to join “his” army. In the Philippines, it was a somewhat different story, as there was not really one group that controlled the actions of all of the Philippine resisters. The soldiers were fighting more for themselves and for their immediate superiors. This support from so many was vital for these two ventures to succeed. Succeed they did however, and they became two important members of the Allies.

Works Cited:

1. “Free French Forces.” Wikipedia. 3/12/2008. 3/13/2008.

2. "Commonwealth of the Philippines” Wikipedia. 2/18/2008. 3/13/2008.

The Royal Air Force is no place for an artist. One day this guy, Ralph Barnby as I recall, showed up and said he was some sort of camouflage officer. He started painting everything in sight; he was such a damned nuisance, but Barnby took a lot of pride in his work. He was always around the airport with a can of paint in one hand and a brush in the other. He never seemed quite satisfied and was always changing the look of some airplane or building just a little bit. He made my Wimpy, a Vickers Wellington that is, look like some kind of whore wearing too much make up. I didn’t like it very much. It’s not dignified for an airplane to have too much paint, but Barnby insisted it was necessary. Now a Wimpy doesn’t exactly look graceful, and it wasn’t as pretty as the later Lancasters, but it had its own sort of ugly-duckling beauty. But after Barnby got through with my airplane, I was almost ashamed to fly her.

“At least we’ll be harder to shoot down,” my copilot used to say.

I kindly disagreed, or not too kindly sometimes. As much as I liked the old Wimpy’s, they were bloody loud, and even if you look up and don’t see it right away, you could still hear it. And besides, Barnby’s stupid camouflage didn’t seem to do a very good job. Bomber Command’s airplanes were dropping like flies in those days, and I’d lost enough of my own squadron mates to know that a mere paint job wasn’t enough to keep a plane from being shot down. In fact, the flamboyant colors Barnby used on some of the bombers probably helped to catch the German’s eyes. I even told him so once.

“As an artist, I can assure you that the colors I have put on your airplane will, in fact, make it much harder to see, and not as you say, `attract Germans like a barmaid like Norma.’ You simply don’t understand colors,” was Barnby’s response.

Then I made some comment about how he was probably a queer. It seemed like the right thing to say at the time, but honestly I knew it wasn’t true. One of the most frustrating things about Barnby was his skill with women. Said he used to spend quite some time painting them before the war and there wasn’t a lady in town that he couldn’t woo if he put his mind to it. Now, every airman prides himself on his ability to pick up a woman. After all, if you don’t have the finesse and confidence to sweet talk a girl then there’s no way you could coax something like a Wimpy back to base on one engine after being shot up on a bombing run. And besides, women find something exotic and dangerous about airmen, so an RAF uniform alone can get usually the most pathetic sod a girl for the night. But Barnby really didn’t need any help. In fact, he put most of us other officers to shame. You could almost compare him to Don Juan or Casanova. I really just didn’t understand what Barnby was doing in the RAF.

Whatever my personal opinions, Barnby was an officer in the Royal Air Force, so the Queen, or someone at least, must have thought camouflage was important enough to have him around. And much as I hate to admit it, I guess there was something to the idea. But the worst part of the whole affair was that Bomber Command insisted we take Barnby up on the occasional operational flight so he could get a look at German camouflage.

I remember the first time I took Barnby up flying he got air sick and made a bloody mess. I almost couldn’t believe it, but he threw up all over the bombardier’s compartment. Still, he got over it after a couple of flights. Of course, what really irked me was that when we took him along, Barnby replaced my bombardier and my airplane simply became an observational platform. Let me tell you, there is nothing worse than carrying an artist instead of bombs on a combat mission. That stupid artist made such a racket and fainted the first time the Germans actually shot at us while he was in the plane.

Fortunately I was mostly flying night missions at that time, and there’s no point in bringing an observer along during one of those. The Germans were doing one hell of a job bombing our cities and Bomber Command kept trying to back at them, but it was really a wasted effort since our Wimpy’s weren’t suited for night flying. Oh we did our best, but the Luftwaffe had better airplanes then. That did, however, begin to change, of course, during the war as better planes came into production. Bomber Command had even promised my squadron some of the first Lancasters if we were good. That’s why I never complained about taking that stupid artist along; I was ready to do almost anything to get my hands on one of those new Lankies. Of course, I never did get to fly a Lancaster, since that stupid artist got us shot down. At least I was lucky enough to survive, unlike him.

It wasn’t anything special, just another raid on some German city with a couple of dozen bombers. We were told that we’d be attacking a small German base that shouldn’t be heavily defended. Bomber Command ordered me to take Barnby along so he could get a look at how the base was camouflaged. I wasn’t happy about it, but then, even if I didn’t like it, orders are orders. So instead of carrying bombs, I once again carried an artist.

As was far too common, Bomber Command’s intelligence proved to be terrible; the Germans spotted our raid and there were quite a few more Luftwaffe fighters in the area than we were told there would be. A single Wimpy doesn’t have many guns, but enough of them together can put awful lot of lead into the air. Unfortunately, we only had a small raiding force and no escort on that mission. Still, there were some good gunners in my squadron and in the end we took down most of the German fighters and most of the squadron made it back to base. I simply had the misfortune of carrying an artist along with me.

The bombardier’s compartment is in the nose of a Wimpy. Since the bombardier needs to be able to see, the nose has a glass bubble as well as well a bomb sight, which is why it was a perfect place for Barnby to observe from. The bombardier’s compartment also has the nose gun in it. Now, my bombardier’s a good shot, and I know he would have gotten that damn fighter, but my bombardier was on the ground. I’ll admit that Barby didn’t panic too much, and he even started shooting after I yelled at him enough. He didn’t even faint that time. But he was an artist and he his aim was terrible. The fighter that got us flew in head on and gave Barnby a perfect shot at him. I was sure even that idiot couldn’t miss something right in front of his nose, but the next thing I knew my Wimpy was missing a wing and both engines. I could have killed Barnby. Although, when I bailed out I noticed no one jumped from the nose compartment, so I guess the fighter beat me to it. Either way, I never saw him again. I also never got to fly again, since I spent the rest of the war in a POW camp. The Royal Air Force isn’t any sort of place for an artist.

As the Dance starts, the characters deal with their relatively trivial problems in relatively superficial ways. Peter Templer’s wife leaves him so he simply finds another girlfriend, Barbara Goring pours sugar on Widmerpool’s head and this is taken as the highest offense, and Uncle Giles’ annoyance is merely taken for just that. The story seems to rest solely on parties and coincidence.

However, World War II turns the Dance upside down. The war creates an evil outside force over which the members of the Dance have no control or defense. They are at its mercy, and glibness, sarcasm, and attitude will give neither the characters nor the reader any protection from the assault. In turn, this change leads to a much more interesting story as the characters literally have to fight for survival.

We begin to notice this growing darkness in The Acceptance World when, after the Old Boy dinner, Stringham gets so drunk that Nick and Widmerpool practically have to carry him home and put him to bed. This marks the beginning of our knowledge of Stringham’s alcoholism, and is also the first time we see a character with a real existential problem. Also in that novel we learn the British economy is in terrible shape, but that none of the characters are affected by it except for Widmerpool, and he only because he is an economist. The rest of the characters can sit comfortably on their patrician thrones and continue the Dance as if nothing was wrong.

With the exception of At Lady Molly’s, the next few books begin to show us some of the real horrors of life. At the beginning of Casanova’s Chinese Restaurant, we learn that Nick’s best friend Hugh Moreland will die before his time. In The Kindly Ones, Uncle Giles dies and World War II begins. This marks the time when the Dance really begins to fall apart. In The Valley of Bones and The Soldier’s Art, we begin to see the war directly confront these well-born characters. As we all know, war changes life drastically. The aristocracy can no longer perch on their lofty laurels when artillery shells are being launched at them. Priscilla Tolland and Molly Jeavons are both killed during a shelling, leading to a brilliant scene in the movie where Ted Jeavons has to identify the bodies. Nick learns that there was much more to his affair with Jean Templer than he had previously known. Charles Stringham has led such a dejected life that he is content with serving food to Nick in the Army, and then being sent to the Far East, which eventually leads to his death. Robert Tolland dies in combat and Widmerpool finally shows himself for what he is: a man who will forget his friends in order to pursue selfishly anything that will benefit him. This collapse of the Dance is personified when Chips Lovell and everyone around him is killed by an artillery shell while dancing at a nightclub.

Although the story has become more depressing, it has also become much more interesting. In the beginning of the fall term, I felt no connection between the characters and myself. However, as the tale unfolded, I began to see that these characters were not just aristocrats, but rather people who were stuck in an aristocratic position. Although their hardships were not those of the common man or soldier during this era, they still have a story to tell, and it is World War II that makes it worth hearing.

At the end of The Valley of Bones, we find Nick Jenkins under the command of his old friend, Widmerpool. We soon learn from Nick that serving under Widmerpool is far from a pleasant experience. On the contrary, Widmerpool expects out of his assistant the same endless devotion to work that he himself has, and provides him little incentive to do so. Widmerpool is not Nick’s first commander, however. In the previous book, Nick found himself under the command of two officers: Rowland Gwatkin, and, briefly, Idwal Kedward, each with their own faults. Nick also meets for the first time in this book another commander, who he works decidedly well with: General Liddament. In A Soldier’s Art, we find that Widmerpool shares the faults of the former, and has a distinct lack of the virtues of the latter.

Rowland Gwatkin was Nick’s first commander. While he had a great vision of himself as a commanding officer, Gwatkin had many faults that stood in the way of that goal. Perhaps greatest among those were Gwatkin’s indecision in times of need, and his tendency to over-speak and over-think. These are well exemplified by his failure during the training exercise, and his need to consult Nick on matters involving Maureen. Widmerpool also exhibits indecision and over-thinking the way Gwatkin does. In At Lady Molly’s, he consults Nick about his relationship with Mildred Haycock just as Gwatkin consults Nick about Maureen.

After Gwatkin’s relief of command, Nick serves shortly under Idwal Kedward. Kedward seems like he would be a better commanding officer than Gwatkin. He doesn’t have Gwatkin’s idealism and is instead quite down-to-earth. He is also more decisive and able to think for himself. When Gwatkin made his big mistake during the training exercise, Kedward was the first to be aware enough to realize that there had been a mistake. Kedward does have his own problems, however. When Gwatkin is relieved of his command, Kedward is overly blunt and rude to him about it. In a very Widmerpool moment, Kedward also tells Nick that his own platoon is “far from satisfactory.” (VB, 220)

Widmerpool, even more than Kedward, seems to show a lack of respect for other people. He is not only narcissistic, but selfish as well. When Nick learns that Widmerpool is likely to leave the Div HQ and move up to the Cabinet Office, he asks Widmerpool what will happen to him. Widmerpool responds that he has nothing planned for Nick, despite his previous statement that he “look after the people who’ve been under me.” (SA, 25). He goes on to say to him that there is “nothing startlingly brilliant in your work…to make me press for a good appointment for you.” (SA, 193) This statement reminds us of the statement that Kedward made to Nick a book earlier.

Perhaps the one thing that Widmerpool truly lacks as a commanding officer is something more fundamental: something that we have seen missing from many other aspects of his life as well. “`Do you know what Lyautey said was the first essential of an officer? Gaiety.'” (VB, 152) The importance of this characteristic is enforced in the character of General Liddament, who certainly has gaiety to spare. While he initially comes off as quite strange in the previous book, calling for rations of porridge for the men, and while Widmerpool has a rather poor impression of his “buffoonery,” (VB, 241) Liddament seems to do a fair job, as far as Nick is concerned. He points him in the direction of Major Finn, doing what Widmerpool couldn’t and “looking after” the people under him. On the other hand, we have watched Widmerpool grow up with Nick, and throughout his life, we have seen very little gaiety. Even in his love for Barbara Goring in A Buyer’s Market or his engagement to Mildred Haycock in At Lady Molly’s, Widmerpool seems to be his usual self: cold, calculating, and unfeeling to others.

The one event that stands out among many of Widmerpool’s actions in this book is his decision to place Charles Stringham in the mobile laundry, knowing full well of its plan to depart for the Far East. Powell, here, has created for us to see Widmerpool as a hypocrite. When Nick asks Widmerpool to find a way to help Stringham, and place him somewhere better than has mess waiter in F Mess, Widmerpool scolds him, saying that “it is a great mistake … to allow personal feelings about individuals to affect my conduct toward them professionally.” (SA, 72) However, when Nick returns from leave some time later, he discovers that Widmerpool has acted against his own words to Nick, and moved Stringham into the mobile laundry, where we find out that he will be worse off than as a mess waiter.

Widmerpool is no great commander. While he certainly works hard and schemes quite thoroughly for the organization of the army, investigating characters like Diplock or attempting to secure command for the Recce Unit, he holds none of the qualities necessary for leading men. Like Gwatkin, he over-thinks some of his problems. Like Kedward, he has very blunt and rude with his orders and opinions. Unlike Liddament, he holds very little good will for other men. While Widmerpool says that Nick is not “specially cut out to be a regimental officer” (VB, 242) Widmerpool, if it comes down to it, might not be much better off.

The Soldier’s Art begins with Nick purchasing his army greatcoat from a theatrical costume shop in London before going to join up with his regiment. As he’s standing there, waiting to be served, he notices two dummies in a display case, one dressed in a “Harlequin’s diagonally spangled tights; the other, scarlet full-dress uniform of some infantry regiment.” (SA, pg. 1) Nick at first describes these two as being polar opposites, symbols representing “Civil and Military … Work and Play … Detachment and Involvement … Tragedy and Comedy … War and Peace … Life and Death ….” The Harlequin is of the theatre, of leisure and happiness. He thrives in peacetime. The soldier is of the army, of violence and pain. He thrives in wartime. At first glance, these two images live in completely different worlds, but, in reality, they are not. The Soldier’s Art is full of instances where the military is connected to the theatre and to the civilian world, and the civilian world, in turn, is rife with violence and pain. As The Soldier’s Art unfolds, and with it the events of World War II, these two worlds become more and more tangled together, until there is barely any difference.

After the costume shop scene, Nick shfts back to the present, when he is stationed at Divisional HQ, in the middle of a German air-raid. The world “was dipped in a livid, unearthly refulgence, theatrical yet sinister.” (SA, pg. 12) By using the word “theatrical,” Powell immediately links the war back to the theatre, to the civilian world, insinuating that the two might not be as far apart as Nick first imagined. And, then, as the raid is going on, Nick decides to take a walk with Bithel and discuss a bounced check Bithel had used, while bombs are dropping on the HQ. Nothing about that scene is particularly military in nature. Actually, the conversation would have made more sense set in a London office or on the way to a business meeting, not on a field of war. And, later on, Widmerpool says with respect to Stringham, “We are none of us called upon to do more than fulfill the duties of our respective ranks and appointments, vegetables or no vegetables.” Both of these instances make the military seem much less serious and dangerous: after all, if someone has enough time to talk about finances on a battlefield, or to gripe about dealing with vegetables, then they are probably not in eminent danger.

As a matter of fact, the only time Nick’s regiment acts like a military force is during their “schemes,” or war games, where the two sides are denoted as “Blue Force” and “Red Force.” (SA, pg. 33) But this “battle” seems to be play acting as much as anything else. No one dies, there are no tactical gains or losses in the grand scheme of things, just practice. And so, even the most dangerous, important parts of Nick’s time at Div HQ are little more than an overly complicated performance.

There are also several explicit references to theatre during Nick’s time at the Divisional HQ. Chapter 2 opens with a theatre metaphor, comparing the division to an acting troupe in the process of rehearsing for a play, or, in this case, the war. (SA, pg. 88) And also, Sergeant Ablett, one of the soldiers in the Mobile Laundry Unit, is a former vaudeville comedian, famous for his “trouserless tap-dance.”(SA, pg. 224) His presence adds to the idea of theatre combining with the military.

These moments of relative peace and comedy in the military are put into stark contrast with the bleak and dangerous world that civilian London has now become. Most of the old nightclubs that Nick once frequented are closed, and those that aren’t are much more subdued in nature. Chips Lovell said that the Café Madrid would be “a very sober affair compared with the old days.” (SA, pg.115) Moreland and Audrey have to cope with the hassles of ration cards and blackouts, and, of course, the ever-present danger of air-raids. This last danger was made especially apparent with the deaths of Chips and Priscilla Lovell during a pair of air raids. And it is that night, the night that the Café Madrid was destroyed, that we get the first real hero of The Soldier’s Art: Max Pilgrim, an actor, a singer, helps drags seven people out of the Madrid’s wreckage. (SA, pg. 156) That is far and away the bravest thing anyone does in the entire book, and not from a military hero or a soldier, but a civilian actor. Based on the events of that night, the tragedy of the Lovells and the heroism of Max Pilgrim, along with the rather mundane happenings at Div HQ, it seems civilian life has become more harrowing than military life, and the two worlds, the civilian and the military, aren’t as separate as Nick originally thought, looking at those two dummies.

Immediately following that first visual in the costume shop, the clerk comes out of the storeroom with Nick’s greatcoat. He then mistakes Nick for an actor in a play called The War. Then Nick starts thinking about how accurate a metaphor the theatre really is for a war. By the time he turns to leave, he has completely changed his opinion. “On second thought, the headless figures were perhaps not antithetical at all.” (SA, pg. 4) That moment sets up a basis for all that follows it, the relationship between the theatre and the war, the civilian world and the military one, and how, over the course of World War II, they became so mixed that they might as well be one and the same.

At Eton, in the beginning of A Question of Upbringing, Stringham presents himself as cool and confident. He acts with conviction and laughs at people like Widmerpool. Widmerpool is in no position of power, at the mercy of all of his school mates. By the end of The Soldier’s Art their dispositions are reversed: Widmerpool acts and speaks with confidence and authority, while Stringham is reduced to taking everything life throws at him and every word directed at him quietly and with head bowed.

In A Question of Upbringing, Stringham is in a respected position, coming from an upper class family. His position higher than Widmerpool makes it easy for him to tease Widmerpool, and Stringham mocks the way that he talks and moves. Though not an overachiever, he does enough to get by and does take action when the purpose seems worthwhile to him. This is the case when he reports Le Bas to the police in the “Braddock alias Thorne” incident, purely for his amusement.

While Widmerpool is at Eton, he is constantly ridiculed because he is unordinary: his mistake of wearing the wrong type of overcoat led to students joking about his dressing for a long time after. He has learned to accept mockery from other students: he has a banana thrown at him and instead of making a stand for himself, “an absolutely slavish look came into Widmerpool’s face. `I don’t mind,’ he said, `I don’t mind at all, Budd (QU, 11),'” and when Parkinson, captain of games, said that more people should be as keen as Widmerpool, it was met with much laughter. Later, Nick describes Widmerpool as “rather the kind of man people pour sugar on (BM, 74).” Though he tries to connect with Le Bas, Widmerpool has few if any useful connections while at the school.

As the books progress, Stringham falls into alcoholism, losing control of his life. When he is finally clean of it, he has become used to Tuffy having power over him and has lost much of the conviction he had at school. Nick finds him as a waiter in F Mess, in a lower position than and serving all of Nick’s companions. His exchange with Biggs shows how lowly he has become: “‘Here, waiter, tell the chef, with my compliments, that he bloody well doesn’t know how to cook water.’ ‘I will, sir.’ ‘And he can stick these spuds up his arse.’ ‘Certainly, sir.’ ‘Where’s he to stick the spuds?’ ‘Up his arse, sir.’ ‘Bugger off and tell him.’ (SA, 68)” He acts similarly when Soper confronts him about the lack of salt.

Meanwhile, Widmerpool has grown more confident and powerful. He is now a Major, while Nick is only a second lieutenant. In this position, he has more power than many men with whom Nick works, so is not in position to be ridiculed by them. While men may not like him, they must respect him. Unlike Stringham, Widmerpool is a man of action, but he generally tries to move upward in rank and society instead of doing things for personal amusement and believes that “it is a great mistake in the army, or indeed elsewhere, to allow personal feelings about individuals to affect my conduct towards them professionally (SA, 72).” However, he does this in attempting to get his favored officer for the Reece Unit’s Commanding Officer, causing as much trouble as the “Braddock alias Thorne” incident.

When Nick first mentions Stringham and Widmerpool at Eton, Stringham is better liked, better connected, and more confident than Widmerpool. As time progresses, Widmerpool grows in confidence and works tirelessly to achieve more power and respect, while Stringham loses control of his life and, it seems, much of his self confidence and self respect. By the end of The Soldier’s Art, when Stringham exits the scene, Widmerpool has become by far more powerful and respected than he.

Anthony Powell, throughout the twelve novels included in A Dance to the Music of Time, often includes foreshadowing and raises situations not seen for many books. Recently, we just read about the bombings in Britain, but going back to Casanova’s Chinese Restaurant, we learn of the bombed out Mortimer bar. One of the best lines in the novel, where Nick thinks about Jean, “There is, after all, no pleasure like that given by a woman who really wants to see you,” (TAW, 138) only later to find out that she was sleeping with him, her husband, and another man. In one of the early books at Eton College, Stringham says, “That man will be the death of me.” As we have just found out, Widmerpool sends Charles Stringham to his death in the Far East with the Mobile Laundry. Whether its dark humor or alluding undertones, Powell’s foreshadowing is a main focus of his novels. In The Soldier’s Art, Powell focuses on Bithel. The early pages of the chapter are all about how Bithel will eventually end up getting kicked out of the army for inappropriate actions, however it is not until the end of the chapter, some 170 odd pages later, that he actually does. Powell doesn’t make it a question of if Bithel is going to get kicked out of the army, he makes it a question of when.

At the beginning of the chapter, Nick runs into Bithel during an air raid. He’s wandering around, and decides to strike up a conversation in the middle of the field with Nick and his fellow officers. As Nick begins to narrate the scene, he slips in a few side comments about Bithel’s apparent inabilities, including his prolonged stay with the Mobile Laundry. Nick attributes this to the fact that the division “never received quite the same disciplinary attention,” (ASA, 8) as other divisions, and , “That Bithel had lasted so comparatively long in charge of the Mobile Laundry was little short of a miracle,” (SA, 8). Nick thinks that Bithel’s departure from the army is “ultimately inevitable,’ (SA, 8) and sums up all of his statements with, “All the same, ejection (from the army) sooner or later could not be in doubt,” (SA, 9). It is evident that Nick has little to no faith in Bithel and his ability to stay in the army. From experience, Nick understands that Bithel’s actions will eventually lead to his dismissal. For instance, the last time Nick had really spoken with Bithel was the night that he had “taken a glass too much after traversing the gas chamber at the Castlemallock School of Chemical Warfare,” (SA, 10). While this many have been more of an accident because the gas chambers can cause different people to react differently, incidences like those prompted Nick to cast a judgment about a friend, something he rarely does.

At the same time, Nick brings it to the reader’s attention that Widmerpool has it out for Bithel in A Soldier’s Art. First of all, one of the reasons that Bithel has been able to hang onto his position in the army for so long is because of a story he made up about a pretend brother that was a VC in the 1914-1918 war. A general agreement went around that a brother of a VC should make it as far up the ranks as at least head of the Mobile Laundry. When Widmerpool found out that this was not, in fact, the truth, he was very angry and took it as the last straw in his campaign to have Bithel removed from duty. From then on, he only needed one more incident to have Bithel officially discharged from the army.

Bithel knew this as well. When he was having financial problems and a check he wrote bounced by only a few quid, he started to get really nervous. So, he borrowed the money from a fellow officer. Nick describes a potential scenario as, “Whatever the cause, the army from time to time had to forego its wages; sometimes such individual disasters such as Bithel’s resulting,” (SA, 12). However, Bithel ran into even more trouble when he couldn’t pay the officer back. He says, “With any luck, it won’t come to a court marshal,” (SA, 17). This seems to be something very serious, as Nick says that this might be “the opportunity for which (Widmerpool) was waiting,” (SA, 12).

Of all of the reasons for Bithel to get discharged, there are, of course, reasons that that action does take the full chapter. During his conversation with Nick early in the chapter, Bithel remembers that Nick reads for his occupation. He begins to recount children’s stories from magazines he used to read as a boy. Very delicately, Bithel reveals to Nick his desire to be like one of those heroes in the magazines. He talks about how he would react to hearing his first round of bullets, and he wants to work hard to do that. Bithel also has potential to become someone greater than just a soldier in the Mobile Laundry. He says, “I was a great reader as a lad. One of those thoughtful little boys. Never kept it up as I should,” (SA, 15). Bithel knows that he can do his job and that he can do it well, what he lacks is the motivation.

Finally, at the end of the book, the reader sees what has been coming for three chapters. In fact, Bithel gets thrown out of the army for a repetition of an act that Nick is familiar with. Widmerpool uses the episode where Bithel is drunk to throw him out of the army completely. At the same time, Widmerpool is able to get rid of Stringham from his presence, sending him to the Far East. Bithel is not swept out of the army in an effort to create efficiently, he is taken out by a personal vendetta against him by Widmerpool and the sum of all his past actions. Despite Bithel’s desire to be a hero in the army, his actions depict him as someone who can not attain that status.

One of the central elements of A Dance to the Music of Time is the tendency of various characters to reappear unexpectedly after going unmentioned for years at a time. Some, we are glad to see again; others, we wish had never been born, and despair when we realize that their absences have only been temporary. In my opinion, Audrey Maclintick falls very firmly into the latter category. Though she seems slightly less hostile than she did in her last appearance, she is far more annoying in A Soldier’s Art than she was the first time around. Before, at least, we had the benefit of distance; she was astoundingly nasty, but her marriage to Maclintick was, in the long run, really none of our concern. Now, though, she is too close for comfort. We are fond of Nick, Nick is fond of Moreland, and Moreland, inexplicably, is fond of Audrey-which leaves us to wonder uneasily if, by some sort of twisted transitive property, we are expected to actually like her.

Audrey does have a history of being unpopular. When we first encounter her, Nick clearly dislikes her, Moreland is afraid of her, and Maclintick’s marriage to her is a complete disaster that drives him to be almost cruel to her. To be sure, Maclintick later admits that she was nearly his ideal, but that does not make us think Audrey might be nicer than we thought, so much as that Maclintick might be drunker than we thought. Moreland’s wife Matilda, who has been presented as a smart, perceptive woman, refers to Audrey as a “bitch,” and any character that doesn’t openly loathe Audrey seems to merely find her amusing.

With her reappearance in A Soldier’s Art, however, we are forced to question our assumptions about Audrey’s personality. Hugh Moreland is an intelligent man, and if he can stand to live with her, then perhaps there is something more to her. Moreland does want to be taken care of, and that certainly must play a large role in his decision to share a flat with her. He also longs for the days before the war, and sees her as a representation of the past. It seems odd, though, that Moreland would choose Audrey, of all people, to help him recall “the good old days”; odder still, that he should choose her as his caretaker-personally, I would prefer to suffer.

Nick suggests that Audrey might view Moreland as a substitute for the children she never had (not that she wanted any). She does seem to adopt a nagging, patronizing tone when she deals with him, and her earlier interactions with Maclintick exhibited a definite controlling streak. She always makes a point of establishing herself as the one in charge of any situation, whether or not it is actually true.

Stringham called Audrey “Little Bo Peep” in reference to the frilly dress she was wearing at Mrs. Foxe’s party, but the comparison might be more accurate than he thought. Audrey, behind a front of indifference, wants to control those she has labeled her “sheep,” and resorts to verbal abuse as a means of demonstrating her power. Judging by her reaction to Stringham’s (and, later, Odo Stevens’) flirting, Audrey really just wants to be happy and loved; unfortunately, her abrasive personality and reflexive-almost defensive-hostility continue to sabotage her efforts. Although it doesn’t exactly make her more likeable, it is easier to understand and pity Audrey when we realize that she is permanently stuck in a trap of her own making.

Unless she makes significant changes to the way she treats other people, I can’t imagine that Audrey will ever be able to exist in a comfortable long-term relationship. Hopefully her fling with Moreland will not last much longer-what poor fellow she ensnares next is anyone’s guess. (I am sure it will never come to pass, but I can’t help but feel that a relationship between Audrey and Widmerpool would be an enormously entertaining thing to witness.)

The eight installment of the Dance to the Music of Time series The Soldier’s Art reunites us with a familiar face. We first met him in A Question of Upbringing and every now and then in the books in between. Charles Stringham is once again in close proximity with our narrator Nick Jenkins. However, this reunion of childhood friends is not all we would hope for or even expect, for Stringham is a changed man in more ways than one. Although the name and face are recognizable, the character himself is not. With the exception of Peter Templar, Nick is among the people he most closely related to during his high school years. It is not unreasonable to expect that Nick would be thrilled with the current situation of working with some of his closest friends. Sadly, this is not at all the case. The difference in military rank between the three, and the transformation Charles Stringham underwent somewhere along the way, makes this reconciliation of characters a bittersweet farewell to what we once knew.

In A Question of Upbringing we are introduced to the smooth talking, intelligent, somewhat mischievous Charles Stringham. He is a character we are prone to like; an intellectual who will on occasion do such things as to call the police on his housemaster. Even then Stringham’s life was conflicted. His father lived thousands of miles away in Africa and he and his stepfather were not on the best of terms. A Question of Upbringing ends with a falling out between Charles and Nick, and we only next see him at an old boys dinner, this time struggling with alcoholism. Although he’s addicted to the booze, we can still see many traces of the old Stringham we new and liked. There is a hope that things will once again be made good between old friends. When we again meet Stringham in A Soldier’s Art it becomes apparent that all hope is lost.

We immediately see just how far he has sunk, when he shows up in F mess serving as a waiter to a bunch of grumpy old men. “Here, waiter, tell the chef, with my compliments, that he bloody well doesn’t know how to cook water. I will sir. And he can stick these spuds up his arse. Yes, sir. Repeat to him just what I’ve said. Certainly sir. Where’s he to stick the spuds? Up his arse, sir. Bugger off and tell him.” The Charles Stringham we once knew most likely would have gone back into the kitchen spit on all the spuds and then proceed to verbally abuse the old men. It would seem that that intellectual upper class Charles Stringham has disappeared, right along with the alcoholic Charles Stringham. What we are left with is nothing more than an automaton, a series of programs; someone meant to follow orders and nothing more. When Nick catches up with Stringham in the alley, our concerns are proven true; any remainder of our old friend is gone. “Don’t you feel I’m quite up to the mark as waiter? He said. Nick, you fill me with apprehension. Surely you are not on the side of Captain Biggs, who, I realize, does not care for my personality. I thought I was doing so well. I admit failure about the salt. I absolutely acknowledge the machine broke down at that point.” Charles goes on to talk about how he one day will hopefully make a great waiter, and then politely refuses Nick’s invitation to dinner. Ironically, this could be considered characteristic of him, because he had previously neglected dinner arrangements with Nick back in A Question of Upbringing. Perhaps it is supposed to signify Nick and Charles second, and what will most likely prove to be final, falling out.

It is amazing to see how drastically some characters change. Stringham’s fall from grace, and Widmerpool’s rise of power. The hierarchy is completely flipped from what it was back at Eton. What seemed like such a promising life for Charles turned into a meaningless position. The only solitude he could find was in becoming subservient, while Widmerpool on the other hand, rose from being the joke of the school to becoming a DAAG. As Stringham is transferred to the mobile laundry, destination: Far East, we can only assume that this will be the last time see him, making him right all along when he once said about Widmerpool, “that boy will be the death of me.” Farwell Charles Stringham.

In The Soldier’s Art, Nick Jenkins’ account of the Second World War unfolds following a rhythm of sudden blitzes and air raids. The plot’s rhythm forces us to feel as if we are in fact sitting in Britain during the mid 1940s. As it is difficult for his readers to grasp the idea of living in wartime, Powell cleverly writes with a pattern of long stretches of routine matter, daily life in the army, and other tedious anecdotes interrupted with sudden bursts of action. While it is impossible for us to ever comprehend life during the World War II, the style of this book offers us some insight into the cadence of military life.

The beginning of The Soldier’s Art is notably unexciting. Nick buys an overcoat. Nick reminisces about his Moreland days. Nick comments on his daily life in the F Mess. Nick and Bithel converse about the books they read in their boyhoods. These commonplace accounts seem lackluster when one considers the intensity of war. Sixteen pages into the book, Bithel and Jenkins, along with the other men of the F Mess, experience an air raid. Bithel indicates that the raid is “more spectacular than alarming, even a trifle stimulating now one [is] fully awake and dress; so long as the mind [does] not dwell on the tedium of a three-day exercise the following day, undertaken after a missed night’s sleep” (16). This comment explicitly demonstrates the tedium of exercises in the army and much of the time in the army is spent on these exercises.

The deaths of Chips Lovell, Priscilla Tolland, and Molly Jeavons occur suddenly and in quick succession. Max Pilgrim informs Nick, Moreland, and Audrey Maclintick that “no one survived from that corner” of the Madrid where Bijou Ardglass’ party was seated. At this table was Chips Lovell. This news shocks Nick as he had just conversed with Chips hours prior to the air raid which hit the Madrid. Nick, Moreland, and Audrey react to this tragic event for mere minutes until Audrey states, “I’ll make some tea” (158). Audrey quickly returns to her normal routine by putting a pot of tea on the stove to end a social night. As Audrey makes the tea, Nick realizes that “Priscilla [has] to be told about the Madrid as soon as possible” (158). Without grieving, Nick returns to his matter-of-fact nature and leaves Moreland’s flat to bring the news to the Jeavons.

Upon arriving at the Jeavonses’ house a few hours later, Nick is informed that their house has been hit during the most recent air raid. Nick enters the house to speak with Eleanor Walpole-Wilson. She asks Nick if he has heard the news. He begins to say Molly has been killed but is interrupted by Eleanor who adds that Priscilla was also killed in the blast. Eleanor “[begins] to cry” and says, “It’s all too awful” (164). Moments later, she says, “We must get out some sort of plan. No good just sitting about” (164). Again, the characters quickly return to normal life after tragic interruptions.

These dramatic events resulting in the deaths of three prominent characters fall upon Nick and us suddenly and forcefully in a manner similar to that of an air raid. In Nick’s description of an ending air raid, the noise “[diminishes], the barrage gradually, though appreciably [reduces] its volume” (17). Then, “quite suddenly the guns [fall] entirely silent, like dogs in the night, which after keeping you awake for hours by their barking, suddenly decide to fall asleep instead” (17). This description demonstrates the suddenness in which an air raid ends and the havoc settles. As previously discussed, Nick and the other characters react to their dramatic situations in a similarly sudden sense: after moments of reaction, they quickly return to the menial tasks of everyday life.

The third and final dramatic scene of the book involves Widmerpool and his meddling in military affairs. Throughout the book he has been attempting to have his chosen man appointed officer of the Recce Unit. He has also accused Diplock of embezzling money from the Division. These affairs reach a climax in the final pages of the book when Farebrother, Colonel Hogburne-Johnson and the DAPM, Keef, visit Widmerpool’s office. To Nick, “it [is] all at once clear as day that one of [Farebrother’s] reasons for coming round to Div HA [is] to inform Widmerpool of this promotion to lieutenant-colonel” (198). Widmerpool counters by telling Farebrother that he will be going to the Cabinet Offices. At this point, Farebrother “brings out his trump card,” and reveals that Ivo Deanery has been appointed to the Recce Unit (202). Furthermore, Farebrother relays the message that “the MGA thinks [Widmerpool] is a bit too interested” in the Recce Unit affair and that “there’s going to be a hell of a row” (203). Widmerpool becomes extremely defensive, “goes very red,” and is “furious” (204).

While Widmerpool tries to compose himself from this situation, Hogburne-Johnson asks him to apologize for accusing Diplock of stealing money. Widmerpool does not apologize and “[gives] the impression that his mind [is] on other things,” like his own fate in the army (211). The situation continues to escalate and it seems Widmerpool will need to leave the army after his huge embarrassments. To Widmerpool’s relief, Diplock deserts the army. His desertion proves him guilty and justifies Widmerpool’s suspicions. The Widmerpool affair settles down as “there [is] nothing to be done” but “only wait and see how matters [shape]”(216). Despite the intensity and rapidity of these events, Widmerpool settles down and Nick “[goes] back to F Mess” for dinner (228).

The dramatic events of The Soldier’s Art occur sporadically and with great intensity and thus resemble the air raids which punctuated life in England during World War II. Not necessarily frequent, these air raids shook up the people. Eventually the raids became commonplace enough that people were able to quickly return to their regular lives. Nick notes that “it might be added that all sense of excitement was to evaporate from air-raids three or four years later” (17). In the course of this book, we see that this is truly that case. The final sentence of the book is: “That same week the plane was shot down in which Barnby was undertaking a reconnaissance flight with the aim of reporting on enemy camouflage” (228). The nonchalance with which Nick adds this onto his accounts in this book reveals that the dramatic events of his life during the war became routine.